something lost, something gained
by teddylupin-snape
Summary: Ginny/Tonks Mulan!AU


The war is brewing again, stronger now than ever before. Both sides are recruiting forces. Half of your family has already fought, hell, one of your brothers was killed in this war. It had been a few years since the battles had been this bad. Last time, Fred and George were brought to the front lines, and Fred never made it back. George returned missing an ear, but that wasn't all that made it seem like a part of him was gone. A part of all of you was gone, really. It had been a quiet few years around the house.

But then a morning came, and with it an owl. One look at the insignia on the envelope made the faces of your whole family pale. Everyone gathered around the breakfast table stopped, eyes fixed on George. Ron's spoon fell with a clatter, Percy looked faint, and your hands wouldn't stop shaking.

As George opened the envelope, his hands shaking just as much as yours, his lips pressed tightly together, he kept stealing glances at the empty chair to his right. You knew there was always a chance that another war recruitment letter would find its way to your family, but you tried not to think about it too much.

"Georgie?" your mother asked, hesitant – like she didn't want to hear the response she knew was coming.

"Yeah, they want me back. And I'm going." Again, he looked to Fred's unused seat as if searching for validation. He sure wasn't getting it from anyone else at the table.

X

You knocked softly. "George? You still in there?"

"Hmm?"

Sighing, you push the door open. He's sat on the edge of his bed, looking straight ahead of him at a blank stretch of wall. "You alright?"

"Fine. Need something?"

You take a seat next to him on the bed, mimicking his unfocused gaze. "You don't have to go back, George. I'm sure if you wrote someone –"

"I don't want to get out of it, Gin. You don't get it, what it's like out there. It's exhilarating and terrifying and it becomes a sort of home. Does it sound crazy if I say that I miss it?"

You don't really want to bring it up, but you do. "After… after Fred. They wouldn't make you come back, it could be a mistake—"

"The request was addressed to me. I rose through the ranks years ago, they want me back. And, more than all that, I'm not going to leave them a man down. It's getting brutal out there, I'm not letting our side start out at a disadvantage. Besides, this is a fight we believe in. Innocent people are being killed every day because no one's stopping this evil. Fred and I both went into this knowing it was a war worth dying for. That hasn't changed." His gaze is far-off, as though he's not really registering the conversation that's happening. But George had been like that a lot these past few years.

You heave another sigh, thinking. "If someone else went for you, maybe… George, you shouldn't have to relive that. You say you're fine now, but if you go back there and fall apart, then what?"

George finally turned to meet your eyes, but they're closed off, not the genuine connection you expect with your brother. "I need to get some sleep. So should you." He put his hands on his knees, pushing himself up to standing and holding the door open for you. "I'll see you in the morning, squirt."

You pull a half-smile at the shadow of George's old self – the one untainted by the aftereffects of war and the loss of Fred. You wish nothing more than for the ability to save him from all of this.

"Night."

But as you get back to your room, you know sleep's a lost cause. Even still, you lie facing the wall for a good few hours, time passing without a trace. Giving up on rest, you roll off your bed. Digging to the back of your closet, you retrieve your broom, opening the window latch and letting yourself out onto the roof for a midnight fly.

The wind rushing through your hair is the greatest relief you've found. You do a few laps around the house, pulling away a bit farther as you pass lit windows. Embracing the momentary thrill, you take a steep dive down to the ground by the back door. A light is on in the sitting room, and you make out the shapes of George and your parents. A window near the corner is open. You fly low, just under it. You can make out snippets of their conversation.

"George, darling, I'm sure we can work something out. They can manage without you – perhaps Dumbledore could—"

"Mum, I'm not asking Dumbledore for a way out."

"She's got a point, son. After last time, they can't honestly expect you to get back out there."

"Our side has nowhere near the numbers of the opposition – not those willing to fight, at least. And if everyone who'd lost someone stepped back there'd be no one left on the front line—"

Molly gasped. "The front line! You're certainly not going back out to the front line George Fabian—"

"They don't need me in the mess hall, Mum. They need me fighting. If there was anyone else who could take my place, I'd stay here. But that's not how it is. I'm sorry."

"Dear, I'm just saying that you surely have a choice. They could manage without you. In life, you always have a choice."

"Sometimes," George sighed. "It's easier to think that you don't. I've made my decision, and there's still a few days until I leave. It's going to be alright."

You pull your broom up, careful to avoid being seen from the window. Flying back up to your own window a few floors up, your mind reels from the conversation you've just heard.

That night, you make an impulse decision, and you wake the next morning with an even stronger sense of determination for your plan. So you wait it out, quiet for the next two days. But then you wake early, while the rest of the house is still quiet and dark. You shush the part of you that still regrets this plan you've come up with. You try not to think about how intense the training will be. You know it won't be easy. You've heard George's stories, and those from your father and Bill from even more years ago.

Not to mention the fact that you aren't _technically_ allowed to be a soldier.

They didn't allow women to fight, for some number of misogynist reasons you don't want to think about at the moment. Kneeling on the floor of your bedroom, you pull out a pair of kitchen shears that you'd brought up there a few days before. Taking a deep breath, you made the cut, hair falling down in fiery ribbons around you. The time for doubts is gone now, so all that's left is going through with the plan you've made with all the confidence you can muster.

You creep out of your room, down to the kitchen where George's letter is still sat upon the table. They've set it up so that it acts as a Portkey when you Apparate with it in hand, taking you where you – or rather, George – are meant to report for training. This is their way of keeping the locations confidential. This also means that once your family realizes that you've gone in George's place, they won't know where to find you.

But you put that aside as a future-you problem, and Apparate.

X

You didn't think you'd be physically prepared for the training, but you never expected it to be as strenuous as it was.

The only thing getting you through the drills was one of your colleagues. "Tonks," he said his name was. You weren't sure if that was just a military-folks-using-their-last-names-only thing or not, but you went with it.

Likewise, you introduced yourself as "Weasley," because you hadn't yet come up with an entire alternate persona. Maybe you should work on that.

The two of you shared neighboring beds and the same schedules for training and meals and just about everything else. You get to know each other – or rather, Tonks gets to know the version of you that you're essentially creating as you go. He knows you as Gene, and you hate yourself just a bit for that being the first name to come to your mind.

You learn that Tonks decided to step in in his father's place – "He's getting a bit old, ya know? Doesn't need all this." And you tell him about George, and even about Fred. You form a tight pact, in everything together and out of every situation only after you see that the other is safe right next to you. You complain about long days and sore bodies and thin mattresses.

X

One night, a few weeks in, you're both coming back from the bathroom after everyone else. Tonks pulls you aside, piquing your curiosity.

"I can trust you, Gene. Right?"

You don't have a clue where this conversation is going, but your heart rate quickens and you feel your palms becoming sweaty. You nod.

"Good. Because I have a secret, and it's been killing me – I need to have someone here who knows."

Relieved that this apparently isn't your secret being outed, you relax, smiling at Tonks for trusting you enough to divulge anything secret to you.

"I'm a Metamorphmagus – you know what that is, yeah?"

It's impossible for Tonks to not have noticed your jaw dropping, but he didn't mention it. "You can change your appearance at will?" You can't hide the awe from your voice, but it seems that Tonks doesn't mind this either.

As confirmation, Tonks's facial features change, cycling through a pig's snout, long-necked giraffe, all the way through to a fish's visage before returning to the Tonks you're used to.

"Wicked," you breathe.

"And – you won't tell anyone, will you?" Without waiting for a response, he replied. "This is the kicker – I'm not even a man. But they wouldn't let me in as-is, and I couldn't let my father—"

"Hey," you cut Tonks off, noticing the frantic tone growing. "I'm not telling anyone, promise. But a secret for a secret, alright? Because I'm in the same situation. Well, nearly. I can't change any of this," you gesture vaguely at your face.

"So you're saying you're-?"

"I'm not a bloke either," you laugh. "Looks like we're two sides of the same coin, ey?"

"You would be so lucky," he—she? _Tonks_. Tonks laughs right back. "Y'know, I had a feeling. Something seemed different about you from the start."

"Oh yeah? What was your first clue?"

"You try way too hard to look cool. You don't seem to know what you're doing nearly as often as you act like you do." Tonks watches your face carefully – watches as you show confusion and understanding at each phrase, all underlined with a slight annoyance. "But you've got this confident air about you, like you're just daring someone to catch you so you can fight right back with them." She laughs. "I can't believe you lied to me all this time!"

"You lied too, you had the _exact_ same lie!" You are laughing too, now.

"Is this supposed to be an apology? If it is, it's not very good."

"Oh shove off, you. It's Ginny, by the way. You've got to quit it with all that 'Gene' stuff."

Tonks rolled her eyes. "Hey, you brought Gene into all of this." Tonks put out a hand to shake yours. "It's Tonks. Lovely to meet you."

X

Training finishes the next week, and they go out on their first mission, working in pairs. You're not sure if they paired you and Tonks up intentionally or not, but you're one of the most cohesive duos in the unit.

If only the mission was as on board with the team as the two of you were.

The last thing you anticipate is being injured, not on a simple observational mission. All you needed to do was to scope out the nearby opponent turf. What you did not need was to stumble – quite literally – upon a small landmine.

Small was a relative term. The damage it did certainly wasn't.

The sound is unlike anything you've ever heard outside of an old Muggle film – certainly nothing you expected to encounter yourself in life. The ground around you shakes violently, and a searing pain shoots up your left calf. You don't remember much more — just the sky filling with a dark smoke, Tonks yelling, and the distant stampede of opposing forces. A more commonplace _crack_ of Tonks's Apparation brings the two of you back to base, right outside of the Healers' tent.

When you come to a day or so later, Tonks is still standing right next to you, accompanied by a witch you don't recognize. "Wotcher, Weasley." You manage a weak grimace in response, but Tonks takes it in stride. "Just had to go and get yourself blown up on the first mission, ey? Always thought I'd be the one to fall face-first into danger. Just goes to show you, I s'ppose. But all that blood looks good on you, really brings out your eyes—"

"Alright," the Healer says sharply. "Weasley's alive, now kindly back up so I can make sure it stays that way." Tonks saluted, a smile growing on her face before turning to take a seat at one of the waiting chairs across the tent. "You've been in quite the accident. I wish I could say you were getting better, but…"

You sigh deeply, looking down at yourself for the first time, assessing your injuries. All the skin visible is riddled with small cuts and bruises. But it's your left leg that makes your stomach churn. "What happened?" You look away from the mess of blood and bone and flesh.

"An explosion took you out a couple days ago, you've been out cold since. And there's a rather nasty infection that cropped up last night. I put a potion on it that should've stopped it by now, but apparently it wasn't quick enough. If it spreads anymore, I'm sorry to say there's little chance of keeping the leg." The Healer's tone is brisk, crisp, but there's a softness to her words, like the sympathy of one who sees situations like this far too often and can help far too rarely.

"K—keep the leg?" You vaguely wonder if your brain was injured in the incident, too. Everything is foggy, nothing quite makes sense. The edges of your vision grow increasingly darker, until all you can see is worry growing on your Healer's face before you slip away into unconsciousness again.

X

You awake again, not much later. The same Healer is still leaning over your bed, checking your leg. _Oh Merlin, the leg_. You try not to think about it.

"Weasley? Weasley, this infection is becoming more dangerous. I can't let it keep spreading, you won't make it through the night. I need to amputate. Can you hear me?"

You mumble something that vaguely resembles a _yes_. "Do what you need to do. I need to make it back home _alive_. Please." Your voice fades away again, as does your consciousness. When you awake again, you're cleaned up, and you can't bring yourself to shift the fresh sheets that cover your lower body.

The pain is different now. More tingling and stinging, less burning and outright excruciating. You hope it'll fade.

You're losing faith quickly, though.

X

"Weasley."

The next time you awake, the face of your commanding officer is looming above you. You're still a bit fuzzy from the pain potions, but even if you weren't, you doubt you'd be able to read his expression. The man is notoriously inscrutable.

"Sometimes it's one wrong step that gets you. Seems like that was the case here. I'm sorry about the leg." He sounds genuine, but he's moved on before you can think any more about the sentiment. "I came by to let you know I'd be letting you go on honorable discharge. When I got here, your Healer had some news for me. It looks like more than just your leg is gone, Weasley. You know we have strict rules here, and we can't have women fighting these wars."

"That's bullshit!"

" _Weasley_!" His tone is threatening, but you can't bring yourself to care anymore. "You won't get anywhere in this world with that temper of yours, especially not if you keep going around breaking every rule set before you."

"Who are you to say what I can and can't do?"

"Your superior." He pauses a beat, and when he speaks again, his voice is calm, controlled. "I know my place. It is time you've learned yours."

With that, he leaves the room.

X

Tonks comes in to visit you the day before you return home. She sits on the side of your bed, sword still hanging in its holster around her waist.

"You're sticking around this place, then?" you ask. She just laughs.

"You know." Tonks runs a hand through her short, brown curls. "I still haven't shown you what I normally look like." You sit back and watch as her short hair grows long, lightens and shifts to a purpley-pink shade that matches her personality exactly. Her face grows smaller in places, the chin narrowing, nose shrinking, eyes widening, growing softer. The change makes you feel like you're meeting Tonks again for the first time. This time, her personality isn't a mystery, not something you have to uncover. It's all over her face, especially in that proud smile.

"You're an inspiration to me, Gin. You kicked ass out there. We're really going to miss you. _I'm_ gonna miss you."

X

You almost don't want to go home. How are you supposed to face your family when you left them without a word and went off to war? A war you weren't even supposed to fight in.

You've got to bite the bullet at some point, though.

No pun intended.

When you go through the front door, the house around you is quiet. It's still early, Ron and Charlie are probably still asleep, your dad and Bill likely at work already. "Hello?" you call.

You make your way over to a chair in the sitting room, exhausted from the walk in from the Apparation spot outside. You hear a voice from inside the kitchen.

"Ginny? Ginny! Oh, Arthur, it's Ginny!"

Before you knew it, all you could see was your mother's red hair and her arms wrapped around you tighter than you've ever felt and the smell of home was so overwhelmingly perfect. She pulls back, holding you at an arm's length and looking at you with more love than you expected. The whole family fills the room. And they ask about your leg and 'what the _hell_ ' you were thinking and for every detail of what happened. And you tell them as much as you can remember and there's more hugging and crying than you've seen in a long time and you think that maybe, despite this whole mess that you've landed yourself in, maybe everything's going alright.

X

 **A/N:**

 **Assignment 12: Gardening 1 (Trait: courageous); Seasonal Challenges: Days of the Year – June 12: Superman Day (write about someone with a secret identity); Summer prompts – (Dialogue) "You try way too hard to look cool."; Shay's Musical Challenge – 35 Hair (write about someone having to fight in a war); Gryffindor prompts – Character: Ginny; Traits: Impulsive; Writing Club: Disney Challenge: Themes 3 (alt write about someone being duped by someone, and realizing it); Book Club: Scarlett – color: purple; word: clue; dialogue: "Is this supposed to be an apology? If it is, it's not very good."; Amber's Attic: 8 Face Paint (write about someone hiding who they truly are); Count Your Buttons: Objects 2 Sword; Lyric Alley: 12: Dismissed every rule to abide by; Em's Emporium: Pairings 4: Write about the losses of war.; Liza's Loves: 8 Runaway!AU; Lo's Lowdown: Character-Based Prompts 7 alt. Occupation: nurse; TV Addicts Challenge: Merlin: 2 (plot point: keeping a secret); 4 (phrase: two sides of the same coin); 6 (dialogue: "In life, you always have a choice." / "Sometimes it's easier to think that you don't."); 365 Prompts: 86 (Dialogue: "All that blood looks good on you. It brings out your eyes."); Fortnightly Challenges: Best Friends Day: 12 (write about a friendship forged in tough circumstances; Ginny Weasley); World Cup Challenge: Serbia, Round 1 (Soldier!AU); Dragon Breeding Club wc 3250; Writing Month wc 3250**


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